Layla was a petite black woman in her early 20’s. We’d met at a local dive one night after chatting on tinder. To our surprise, it was karaoke night and the more we drank, the more willing we both became to give it a shot. Drinks turned into singing, singing turned into laughing. She’d seemed tightly wound at the start, or maybe just a bit nervous. She told me she’d grown up in the church and had only recently tried to get away from it. She was still living with some church friends and to them, even being on tinder was an act worthy of gossip. She’d had to lie about our date, saying she was staying with family for the night. She told me she’d been with a few guys before and was looking to gain more experience. She was moving into a new phase of her life and wanted different things. I was just happy to help out.

I took her home and to my shock, it took almost nothing to bring her to orgasm. From the moment her clothes came off to reveal a trim, athletic figure, she was practically shaking. I keyed in to her submissiveness early on. She wanted to be told what to do; moved around like a doll and have her body used however I wanted to use her. Her first orgasm came while grinding on my shin. As we laid on my bed, I told her to suck my dick and she moved without thinking. She looked up at me, her mouth full of cock. I’d be lying if I said the contrast between our skin tones hadn’t somehow made things hotter. She began grinding against my leg. Whining and moaning. She began to tremble and shake, lowering herself and pressing my cock deeper into her throat. Her eyes closed in ecstasy. When it passed, she kept going as though nothing had changed. Her lips still wrapped around me.

I threw her on to the bed and bent her over. Her pussy was gleaming with wetness. As I pressed myself into her, an “oh my god” escaped her mouth. I grabbed her by the hips and slowly started to thrust. She was tight. Really tight. She repeated her “oh my god” over and over, her whole body tensing up again. The walls of her pussy squeezing my cock like they were trying to break it. “I’m….” She pushed herself all the way against me, fucking herself on my cock with increasing intensity. Suddenly she stopped, shaking. Another orgasm. I watched her every muscle vibrate. Her firm ass bucking against my palms. I hadn’t even broken a sweat and here she was already two orgasms in. The night continued like that. Every couple of minutes, right as I would start to find a rhythm, she would already be peaking. Her eyes would go wide and the tension in her body would release. Eventually her “oh my god”’s became so routine that they lost their initial excitement. She asked if I was going to cum at one point and I’d waved her off. I knew it wasn’t going to happen and had resigned myself to, for lack of a better term, being a stunt dick. By the end of the evening I was a strange combination of spent and sexually frustrated. Even if I hadn’t cum, I still wanted her to at least make something of an effort besides an ask tossed off during a water break. It was the epitome of a first world problem: she came so frequently that I never even had a chance to.

It must be acknowledged, I told myself, that men have famously treated women this way for ages. Modern medicine didn’t even acknowledge women could have orgasms until fairly recently (broadly speaking). I told myself I was being selfish, or that I should have asserted myself more. Yet it also felt odd that despite being the dominant one, I’d ostensibly left the night feeling out of power. I knew that power exchanges were ultimately facilitated by the submissive. I didn’t want to shame her or make her feel bad for having enjoyed the evening so much, especially as someone who gets far more out of providing an orgasm than having one myself. I just didn’t realize there was a limit to that.

Despite my handwringing, we’d begun hanging out regularly. Every week I could count on her to come over, fuck herself into a million orgasms, and do whatever I told her to do. Like clockwork. Even if I wasn’t cumming, I was still having regular sex with someone hot who matched my zest; someone else eager to spend the whole night fucking raw until our bodies couldn’t handle anymore. There was no commitment. She just wanted to be fucked well and regularly, the two things I provided best. But over time my frustrations grew. By this time I’d talked to her about them, about holding back. We’d tried some things that had gotten me closer to finishing quicker, but maybe by my own nature, I just wasn’t going to cum quickly. I needed more time and despite the satisfaction and ego boost it gave me to make her cum with such volume and veracity, I craved my own orgasms. I wanted to finish inside her, on her ass as she trembled, in her mouth. She never hesitated to tell me how badly she wanted these things as well. She told me she was particularly fond of cum on her tits. She loved the warmth and texture on her skin, the physical sensation of having given her partner a pleasure so intense that they couldn’t hold back any longer. She told me half the reason her blowjobs were so fantastically sloppy was so she could rub it into her skin after. I wanted desperately to give her all of my cum.

One night while going to town, I’d stumbled into a solution. Fucking her from behind, one hand wrapped around her throat with the other gripping her braids, her moans building into yet another orgasm. Her body begged for release. I told her not to cum. She stopped. All motion ceased with the exception of her quivering frame. She whimpered and whined. My cock throbbing inside her. For the first time I was able to take in how well she fit my cock; how perfect her pussy looked when I filled her. “Please” she quietly asked. Suddenly it all clicked in. She didn’t just want to be told what to do and moved like a doll. She wanted to be controlled. I leaned in close. “If you fucking cum before I tell you to, I will stop fucking you.” I growled. “Yes sir.” I pounded her once. Hard.

“When are you allow to cum?” “When you tell me to.” “Good girl”

I slowly started fucking her again. Making her feel every inch of me. Her moans dragging on far longer now, like honey dripping from her tongue. The tension in her body had seemed to increase tenfold. Spurred on by having to hold back. I flipped her over, suddenly struck with the need to see the effect I was having. Her legs were pinned back on my shoulders and each stroke seemed to reach some new depth of her, some previously unexplored angle. She felt incredible. I was losing myself in the experience of being inside her. Barely able to focus on anything other than how good she felt. Her “oh my god”’s had returned with a new addition. “I’m not gonna cum I’m not gonna cum I’m not gonna cum” as if trying to will herself into it. She looked at me, pleading. “Please can I cum??” I covered her mouth with my hand. Fucking her hard and fast now, her eyes rolled back. I heard her mumble “Fuck” under a heavy, ragged ragged breath. She started to buck her hips against me, tearing at the bedsheets.

For the first time, I was close. Dangerously so. I slowed my pace to draw it out. She seemed barely cognizant of her surroundings, out of her mind with the need to cum. I leaned over her, gently sliding my hand under her head to make her face me. She held my gaze. “You’re going to cum when I snap my fingers.” She nodded, dazed but present. I left my hand near her head as I picked up my speed. Focusing on how amazing every part of it felt: her clenched pussy, her moans and whines, her wetness. It was a heady cocktail and I could barely contain myself. My orgasm building to its peak. I snapped my fingers and almost instantly, all of the tension in her body unwound. Every millimeter of her shook with pleasure. She gripped my cock completely, pulling every single drop of cum out of me. My whole body felt warm as I dug my fingers into her taut caramel thighs.

I collapsed into her. Exhausted and overwhelmed with pleasure. My cock still pumping into her. She held me and kissed my cheek. Leaning into my ear, she whispered “thank you daddy” and wrapped her arms around me. I shuddered at any movement, my body ringing with sensitivity. We stayed like that for a while. My cock buried inside her, her cockwarming for me. She’d been such a good girl.

We continued hooking up for a long time after that. Honing in on my degrading her, controlling her, and her orgasms even further. I mentioned off hand one day that I had a thing for skirts and dresses and suddenly it was all she wore around me. She would often come over and blow me under my desk while I was working at home. She didn’t even want my attention so much as she wanted to be used. To be degraded and not have to think. At one point, I started taking photos and videos of us fucking, of her blowing me, of her cumming every time I snapped my fingers. Sometimes I’d take a video of her cumming on my cock from my POV then make her watch it while I fucked her until she came on my cock again. She couldn’t help herself.

Miss that girl.